Accepted To Stanford Essays 2016

Hi Tyler,

As a stressed sophomore in highschool who should be studying for her bio finals tomorrow, but instead decides to scroll incessantly down her WordPress out of procrastination (and maybe a twinge of hopefulness that she will finish reviewing soon coupled with some mysterious confidence in her ability to cram), I cannot begin to express the gratitude I have towards finding you, your blog, your youtube, and just you. (lol, I sound like a stalker .-.)

Far too many times, have Stanford “acceptees” write about how amazingly talented and “out of the world” they are, and they certainly are and certainly do deserve the admission ticket fair and square, but each time, I admit (hahaha no pun intended) feeling a little more scared than I was before clicking into that particular thread or page. I look up to them with respect and admiration because after all, it’s amazing people that build Stanford up and are built by Stanford, with hopes that I could be like them, and more motivation to try harder.

But it is you, and your writing, that brought to me, an image of a real person, of someone I would hang out with in a park to talk about life, to go on a light hike with, to draw and journal with, to write together about nothing in particular. It made me feel that Stanford was not a place just for genius scientists that discovered the elixir to never-aging when they’re 15, or for the champion of the world in British Parlimentary when they’re 17, or the high school junior who who already claims 59 patents, but that Stanford is also for passionate people who are willing to put themselves out there to not necessarily change the world, but at least run it, with endless love and burning passion. That, I think, sounds pretty legit.

Thanks for reading a supppeeerrrrr long comment and for sharing this~

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High-school senior Brittany Stinson learned Thursday she was accepted into five Ivy League schools — Yale, Columbia, University of Pennsylvania, Dartmouth, and Cornell.

She also got into Stanford, which has an acceptance rate of 4.69% — a lower rate than any of the Ivy League schools.

"I'm sort of still in shock. I don't think I've processed everything yet," she excitedly told Business Insider.

The Ivy League is notoriously hard to get into, as the hundreds of thousands of other applicants to the eight elite schools are well aware.

The schools Stinson was accepted into have acceptance rates ranging from 13.96% to 4.69%.

Stinson graciously shared her Common Application admissions essay with Business Insider, which we've reprinted verbatim below.

Prompt 1: Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

Managing to break free from my mother's grasp, I charged. With arms flailing and chubby legs fluttering beneath me, I was the ferocious two­ year old rampaging through Costco on a Saturday morning. My mother's eyes widened in horror as I jettisoned my churro; the cinnamon­sugar rocket gracefully sliced its way through the air while I continued my spree. I sprinted through the aisles, looking up in awe at the massive bulk products that towered over me. Overcome with wonder, I wanted to touch and taste, to stick my head into industrial­sized freezers, to explore every crevice. I was a conquistador, but rather than searching the land for El Dorado, I scoured aisles for free samples. Before inevitably being whisked away into a shopping cart, I scaled a mountain of plush toys and surveyed the expanse that lay before me: the kingdom of Costco.

Notorious for its oversized portions and dollar­fifty hot dog combo, Costco is the apex of consumerism. From the days spent being toted around in a shopping cart to when I was finally tall enough to reach lofty sample trays, Costco has endured a steady presence throughout my life. As a veteran Costco shopper, I navigate the aisles of foodstuffs, thrusting the majority of my weight upon a generously filled shopping cart whose enormity juxtaposes my small frame. Over time, I've developed a habit of observing fellow patrons tote their carts piled with frozen burritos, cheese puffs, tubs of ice cream, and weight­loss supplements. Perusing the aisles gave me time to ponder. Who needs three pounds of sour cream? Was cultured yogurt any more well­mannered than its uncultured counterpart? Costco gave birth to my unfettered curiosity.

While enjoying an obligatory hot dog, I did not find myself thinking about the 'all beef' goodness that Costco boasted. I instead considered finitudes and infinitudes, unimagined uses for tubs of sour cream, the projectile motion of said tub when launched from an eighty foot shelf or maybe when pushed from a speedy cart by a scrawny seventeen year old. I contemplated the philosophical: If there exists a thirty­three ounce jar of Nutella, do we really have free will? I experienced a harsh physics lesson while observing a shopper who had no evident familiarity of inertia's workings. With a cart filled to overflowing, she made her way towards the sloped exit, continuing to push and push while steadily losing control until the cart escaped her and went crashing into a concrete column, 52" plasma screen TV and all. Purchasing the yuletide hickory smoked ham inevitably led to a conversation between my father and me about Andrew Jackson's controversiality. There was no questioning Old Hickory's dedication; he was steadfast in his beliefs and pursuits - qualities I am compelled to admire, yet his morals were crooked. We both found the ham to be more likeable-and tender.

I adopted my exploratory skills, fine tuned by Costco, towards my intellectual endeavors. Just as I sampled buffalo­chicken dip or chocolate truffles, I probed the realms of history, dance and biology, all in pursuit of the ideal cart-one overflowing with theoretical situations and notions both silly and serious. I sampled calculus, cross­country running, scientific research, all of which are now household favorites. With cart in hand, I do what scares me; I absorb the warehouse that is the world. Whether it be through attempting aerial yoga, learning how to chart blackbody radiation using astronomical software, or dancing in front of hundreds of people, I am compelled to try any activity that interests me in the slightest.

My intense desire to know, to explore beyond the bounds of rational thought; this is what defines me. Costco fuels my insatiability and cultivates curiosity within me at a cellular level. Encoded to immerse myself in the unknown, I find it difficult to complacently accept the "what"; I want to hunt for the "whys" and dissect the "hows". In essence, I subsist on discovery.

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